


Home snowy home

by RussianWitch



Series: We are not in Stockholm yet [6]
Category: Dark Knight Rises (2012)
Genre: Gen, Journey, in between bit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-19
Updated: 2013-03-19
Packaged: 2017-12-05 19:50:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,024
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/727263
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RussianWitch/pseuds/RussianWitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From Gotham to the League's home is a long way to go. By the end of it John is pretty much exhausted but still has a lot of surprises to deal with.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Home snowy home

**Author's Note:**

> Not beta'd  
> Anyone feel like it feel free.

Nepal is far colder than Gotham, even the siege winter with the none-functioning heating doesn't seem to have been that cold compared to the temperatures in the mountains. John suffers additional discomfort being naturally lanky and not having any winter appropriate wardrobe. He envies Bane the sheepskin coat, not that the man seems to need it.  
A thinned out group of mercenaries makes their way up the mountain on foot taking the supplies they need with them on the backs of mules. John, it seems, is considered part of the supplies as he is tied onto one of the beasts instead of being allowed to walk. Of course spending most of his time tied up hasn't done his stamina any favors and city shoes would only make him slip on the goatpath they are taking , plummeting him down the cliff but it's the principle of the thing: John would have preferred to walk.  
If only to not have to listen to the men making jokes about his delicate nature. 

The air gets thinner and thinner as they go, the wind icier but somehow their destination doesn't seem to come any closer. Barsad has been kind enough to point out some outcrops that might possibly be roofs further up the slope. A few hours into the trip John is shaking like a leaf and concentrating on not biting his tongue in half.  
After a while he even becomes grateful for the rope holding him on the mule. He catches himself slumping down against the neck of the beast again and again unable to keep himself upright with uncooperative limbs. 

He is slumping against the mule's neck yet again half sliding off the beast's back when someone grips him by the scruff righting John in the saddle. He blinks the snowflakes off his eyes wondering when he has closed them and almost manages to fall off the mule from the other side at the realization of who his assistant is.  
Bane doesn't seem to feel the cold, the coat probably has a great deal to do with that, but John wonders whether the steel mask isn't searing the flesh it encapsulates. 

"Careful detective, if you damage yourself here we will not be able to stop for hours yet." 

"Where the fuck are we going? Mount Doom?" 

The question is met with a frown. 

"Not much of a comic fan I take it?" 

John doesn't see any of the confusion clearing. 

" You know popular culture? Books with pictures? " 

You have to grow up under a rock not to at least know about comic books and Bane doesn't seem that old really. 

"Books or any kind were a rarity where I grew up." 

Of course there were, John wonders where exactly the growing up had taken place, there are a lot of places in the world where books are difficult to get. Bane does seem to be from European descend but with the mask on it's difficult to tell. He wonders if Bane even remembers, or if all the countries have melted together by now. 

"That explains a lot actually." 

He ignored the raised eyebrow at that statement since he has tossed it out there only to be difficult.  
He remembers the profiling Gordon did during the siege watching Bane's speeches on TV. The monster speaks like an educated man, drawing from classics and social theory to manipulate the people around him to do as he wishes. 

John still doesn't understand why the mercenary wanted to nuke Gotham, it doesn't seem to fit the pattern John is building in his head. Gordon said more than once that Bane was far more dangerous than he appeared and having dealt with the man up close for the last few months John is more than ready to accept Gordon's judgment on that. For an anarchist Bane likes planning a lot and for a communist he seems awfully comfortable working for and with people who are all about making money and exploiting the masses.  
Besides Gotham almost felt...personal.  
Thinking makes John's head hurt in the harsh conditions so he stops, focusing only on holding himself upright in the saddle. He blocks out his surroundings as best as he can counting the mule's steps in his head to focus on something simple... 

John wakes up warm and dry, sensations he has almost forgotten on the road up the mountain. He is covered with something heavy that's wrapped around him and is lying on something a lot softer than a blanket. His head feels like it's stuffed with cotton-wool and he wonders what happened to the mule only after what feels like an hour does he remember to open his eyes. The room seems to be put together from things which were on hand when they were needed. Old wooden crates making cabinets and army chests stacked against the wall, a writing desk and chair close to a window and whatever it is that John is lying on. The place has a lived in feel to it despite being mismatched, something that John hasn't experienced often. The light comes from a bare bulb high up in the ceasing dangling down by it's wiring it's harsh light making John's head hurt. Wiggling around he frees his hands pushing around whatever it is that's covering him to get a better look at it. 

To John's surprise it's Bane's coat; he's swaddled in it like a child wrapped in it's warmth. The coat smells of wet wool, leather, gun grease and ultimately of Bane a sent John has started to familiarize himself with from all the time he's spend in close quarters with the man. He oscillates between throwing the damn thing off and burrowing under it again wondering if that counts as taking comfort from the enemy. The bed when he takes a closer look at it is mostly a pile of various blankets and a few pillows; something to burrow into and make a nest.  
John wonders where he is and who's home the mercenaries have invaded this time. After all the warehouses they have been camping out in since John has been with them an actual home is a novelty but he does feel sorry for the owner. 

Another interesting thing is that for the first time in weeks he isn't restrained in some fashion or other. That prompts him to actually try and get up; his legs shaky but stable enough to make a turn around the room exploring the space he is in. The window is protected by outer shutters that are half open showing a vast vista of white snow and jagged black rock. John wonders how long it took them to reach the citadel in the end and why he can't remember a thing about it. It's embarrassing to admit that he has probably fainted somewhere halfway up the mountain and indeed became part of the goods carried up.  
He tries the doors finding one, predictably, locked and the other opening into a small tiled room with a toilet on one end and something that looks like a shower head on the other. John loves the fact that finally he won't have to ask anyone or wait to be taken to the bathroom, as long as they stay in this fortress in the snow.  
John is amusing himself by trying to break in to the desk when the main door opens behind him. He spins around trying to look like he wasn't trying to open the lock with a pen and stray paper-clip. 

"I see the cold did less damage than expected, your motor skills have not suffered for it." 

John feels himself blushing despite the fact that he hasn't done anything wrong. He's a prisoner he's supposed to try to escape, when possible, and mess with his captor's stuff. 

"Yeah, I thawed out. So now what?" 

Bane looks suspiciously relaxed, far more than John has ever seen him. 

"Now we wait." 

Bane walks further into the room and John slips away from the desk just in case Bane is aiming for it. He sits down on the foot of the bed leaving himself room to try and get away he glances longingly at the door but decides not to risk it just yet. 

"Wait for what? Hell to freeze over?" 

"Hardly, we shall be waiting for your acquaintance Bruce Wayne to join us." 

By some miracle John keeps himself from blurting out that they will be waiting for a long time in that case since Bruce Wayne went up in a nuclear blast months ago. He wonders what Bane would want with the former billionaire in any case. 

"What do you want with him? I don't think he does donations these days." 

Bane's chuckle gets distorted by the mask sounding like metal scraping against rock. 

"I have no use for my former brothers money but I do lay claim on his life. He raised his hand against his teacher and his sister that can not go unpunished." 

"Bruce Wayne? Raising a hand to anyone? I'd think he'd be scared to break a nail or something..." 

Bane nods while checking the drawer John has been fiddling with then pulling out a key to open it and take out some kind of paperwork. 

"Ach yes, his alter ego was most unimpressive. You will be familiar with the true man as well; I wonder have you ever seen the Batman?" 

"So you're going to wait for a dead man? Can't you do it without involving me?" 

He digs his hands in to the blankets as it starts to sink in that getting home might take far longer than he has ever expected. 

"How can one lay a trap without bait? I fear you will enjoy my hospitality a while longer Mr. Blake." 

"How long?" 

Bane looks up from his papers and John has to wonder at the strange look in his eyes. It makes John uncomfortable enough to look away, focus on the door that might lead to his freedom. 

"As long as it takes. I would suggest not trying for the door. While the man who were with me will know you on sight most of the denizens will not and will more force than you have gotten used to." 

John can't help but wander up to the door anyway, Bane doesn't bother to lie to him but he can't help wanting to try. He rubs the doorknob before going back to sit on the bed. 

"So who did you kick out to house me? It doesn't look like a prison cell." 

He hears Bane sigh, breath whistling through the mask, putting down the papers again. 

"It is not. For your safety you will stay with me." 

John is in Bane's bedroom, has been sleeping in his bed, touching his things. Bane's words don't give the impression that he's going to be staying somewhere else so John knows that he's going to have a room-mate. In a room with only one bed and no opportunity for privacy what so ever. Bane doesn't seem bothered by the prospect of having to share his space but than John has noticed that Bane never seems bothered by anything. He contemplates tossing one of the pillows on the bed at Bane's head just to make his displeasure at his new situation clear but decides that he still feels to weak to take any sort of punishment Bane will come up with in retaliation. Without anything better to do he lets himself fall back on the bed grabs the coat and wraps himself in it.  
He doesn't want to deal with the new information he has received, doesn't want to think about the implications of Bane's insane need for revenge so sleep looks like the best option.  
He'll figure out what he's supposed to do now that he's been designated bait.  
He's been a lot of things in his life but this definitely takes the cake. 

"Sleep well detective." 

John pulls the coat over his head.  
He really doesn't want to think instead he closes his eyes and breaths in the sent of the coat.


End file.
